We have been in Warsaw for several days. With what joy I approached the city! Here I shall see him again; he is coming on October 1st, that is, in one week. If it was not for that hope, life here would be intolerable. Those visits and receptions which seemed so amusing are now a trial. I think everybody is reading my secret in my eyes, and that all my acquaintances are laughing at me, especially the women. Yesterday one of them made me so nervous with her inquiries and her false solicitude that my tears were quite near,--in the presence of at least fifty people. But the Prince Woivode took pity upon me and came to my rescue; he is always so good, only he does not believe in my sorrow and troubles, and calls them "childishness." _Thursday_, October 1. He arrived and is well; I have seen him, but before much company, and when my heart was leaping to meet him I had to stand still and wait until he entered and saluted the Prince Woivode, and then to make the low courtesy as etiquette requires. No matter; as long as he is here and well, everything seems more cheerful, and all will be well. _Tuesday_, October 20. My God! what a promise have I given one hour ago! The fourth of November, when will it be? It is the birthday of the duke, and as a gift he wants my hand. He said that he will doubt my affection if I refuse. The Prince Woivode also pleaded for him, and I said "yes," before I realized that I had no right to do it without the knowledge and permission of my honored Parents. But I will not marry without their consent; I said that I must write to them, or otherwise I would rather enter a convent. At last the duke submitted and promised to add a postscript to my letter. Here my pride received a shock; is it not the young man who ought to humbly ask the Parents for their daughter's hand? Yes, but not a royal prince. For the first time, I felt the difference in our rank,--that it is he who does me a favor in marrying me. But it is too late for any regrets; my word is given. _Thursday_, October 22. A chamberlain of the Prince Woivode has gone to Maleszow with the letters. The duke said that my letter was too humble, but I thought it was his postscript which was too royal. What will the answer be? My life is in suspense until then. I had the happy thought to ask if the curate of Maleszow could not come to give the wedding blessing; it would at least be somebody from my home. The Prince Woivode promised to have him come, and he will also obtain the necessary papers. _Wednesday_, October 28.